Living as Lazarus: A Journey from Captivity to Resurrection

The story of Lazarus in the Gospel of John is not just a miraculous event—it is a profound revelation of how God calls us from death to life, from captivity to liberation. It is a powerful narrative that resonates with the existential struggle of humanity—caught between the shadows of death and the call to abundant life. This story, like much of Scripture, unveils the creative tension between divine sovereignty and human response, between spiritual captivity and the call to walk freely in the newness of life.

Lazarus wasn’t just an abstract character in a biblical story—he was a friend of Jesus, a real person whose death elicited the tears of the Son of God. He wasn’t a stranger to Jesus but someone with whom He shared meals and conversations. The town of Bethany became a place where Jesus could rest from the demands of ministry, a refuge in the chaotic whirlwind of public life. In Lazarus, Mary, and Martha’s home, Jesus found community, hospitality, and friendship.

This story begins in the in-between place, a space where life and death intersect. It’s that uncomfortable gap between expectation and reality, where faith is tested and hope seems elusive. It’s where Martha and Mary found themselves—grieving the loss of their brother, bewildered that the One who healed others didn’t come in time to save His friend.

The Divine Delay: Trusting in God’s Timing

When Jesus heard about Lazarus’s illness, He deliberately delayed His visit. This delay was not an act of indifference but a purposeful waiting—an invitation to deeper faith. How often do we cry out to God and feel that He is absent, indifferent to our pain? Yet, God’s timing is not our own. It transcends our limited perspective and moves according to divine purpose.

When Jesus finally arrived, Martha’s words carried both reverence and a hint of accusation: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:21) How many times have we echoed that sentiment? “Lord, if you had been here, I wouldn’t have lost my job. If you had been here, my child wouldn’t have gotten sick. If you had been here, my marriage wouldn’t have crumbled.”

But in that divine delay, Jesus revealed something profound about Himself: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.” (John 11:25) Martha’s faith needed to shift from an abstract belief in future resurrection to a present encounter with the Resurrection Himself.

Faith is not just an expectation for a distant tomorrow—it is a present reality where Jesus declares life even in the midst of death.

The Human Jesus: A God Who Weeps

And then comes that powerful, profound, two-word verse: “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)

We cannot rush past this. The incarnate God, the sovereign King of the universe, stood at the grave of His friend and wept. His tears were not a performance or a formality—they were raw, honest, and deeply human. In that moment, Jesus wasn’t just displaying empathy—He was entering into the grief of humanity. He was participating in the agony of loss, embodying a God who is not distant from our pain but is profoundly present within it.

This is not a passive Savior who watches from a distance—this is a God who enters into our suffering, who grieves with us, and who embraces the full weight of human sorrow. In a world that often dismisses pain or rushes past grief, Jesus models something radically different—He gives us permission to weep, to mourn, to feel deeply without shame.

The Command to Come Forth: Life Out of Death

Finally, Jesus approaches the tomb and gives the command that defies human logic: “Lazarus, come forth!” (John 11:43)

The power of that command breaks the very hold of death. Yet, even as Lazarus comes forth, he is still bound—wrapped in grave clothes. Jesus then turns to the community and instructs them to “unbind him, and let him go.” (John 11:44)

Here lies a profound truth: resurrection is both a divine act and a communal responsibility. Jesus raised Lazarus from death, but the community was responsible for unbinding him. The church today must grasp this duality—we are called to proclaim resurrection life, but we are also called to walk alongside those emerging from their graves, helping to remove the remnants of death that still cling to them.

Too often, we celebrate conversions without committing to the long, messy work of unbinding. We shout, “Hallelujah!” when the prodigal returns but fail to disciple them through their struggles. Resurrection is messy, and freedom is a process. It demands the willingness to get our hands dirty in the work of restoration.

The Cost of New Life: Living as Lazarus

For Lazarus, resurrection came at a cost. His very existence became a threat to the religious establishment, and the chief priests plotted to kill him because his life bore witness to the power of Jesus. When God brings life out of death, it confronts the status quo, and the world often resists what it cannot control or explain.

Living as Lazarus means embracing a life that testifies to God’s power, even when it makes others uncomfortable. It means being a living example of what God can do when death loses its grip. It means recognizing that your very survival is a statement of God’s unrelenting grace.

My Personal Story: Grace That Found Me

I know what it’s like to be bound, to be trapped in the grave clothes of poverty, brokenness, and rebellion. I was on the fringes—pulled into the streets, caught up in the allure of gang life, dropping out of high school and heading down a road of destruction. I was that lost sheep, and it wasn’t my own strength or wisdom that saved me. It was grace—unmerited, unearned, undeserved grace—that reached into my grave and called me out.

The Shepherd’s voice found me when I wasn’t even looking for Him. I was the Lazarus who needed to be unbound. And through community, mentorship, and the unyielding love of God, I was freed to walk in the newness of life.

The Call to Follow the Shepherd

The Shepherd of the Old Testament—who led His people through wilderness and exile—is fully revealed in the New Testament as Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd. He doesn’t just call us out of the grave—He calls us to follow Him. He is the Shepherd who laid down His life for the sheep, shedding His blood to atone for our sins, reconciling us to God, and defeating death once and for all.

And one day, this same Shepherd will return and make the ultimate separation between those who followed Him and those who did not. He will gather His sheep to eternal life and cast away those who refused His call.

The question remains: Will you hear His voice? Will you follow the Shepherd who calls you out of captivity and into freedom?

Today, the Shepherd stands at the door of your heart, calling your name. Don’t remain in the grave. Don’t let fear or shame keep you wrapped in the remnants of death. Come forth! Experience the resurrection life that only Jesus can give.

And when you have tasted that freedom, commit to walking with others through their journey—helping to unbind, nurture, and restore. Live as Lazarus—alive, unbound, and unashamed.

The Shepherd calls. Will you answer?